


Just for today, let me believe we are a family

by muffin_headed



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angry Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Claustrophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, I mean he's trying, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Scared TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), i speedran this at like 3am, more like powerwalked, no beta we die like my motivation to write, rated teen and up for swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29692128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muffin_headed/pseuds/muffin_headed
Summary: “Just the two of us,”No no no, he can’t be in here, he can’t, he has to leave he has to leave he can’t stay here. He can’t stay in here with only, only Dream, he can’t he can’t.“Just like the good old days,”
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 246





	Just for today, let me believe we are a family

**Author's Note:**

> Tommy, stuck in prison: Phil!!1!1!  
> Me, awakening from my hellhole: I have been summoned

“Just the two of us,”

No. No no no no no, he can’t be in here, he can’t, he has to leave he has to leave he can’t stay here. _He can’t stay in here with only, only Dream, he can’t he can’t._

“Just like the good old days,”

He wraps his arms around himself, clutching his shirt around his sides. The obsidian digs into his knees, the abnormal stone cold despite being buried in lava from all sides. He hunches forward, staring into the swirling lava, desperately urging for whoever’s on the other side-- _if anyone’s on the other side_ \--to open the curtain of lava, to free him, free him, let him out let him out _let me out!_

“Don’t you remember, Tommy?”

Memories flash before his eyes, of crater-filled plains, of holes of his belongings, TnT, water filling his lungs and dragging himself to shore, his limbs heavy and reluctant even though he wants to live, he swears he does, why wouldn’t he? He remembers crushing betrayal, fear, anger, looking up an obsidian wall to his best friend, seeing his face scrunched into a look of disgust, of anger, of betrayal, and pointing away from Tommy, into the ocean, away from home.

_“You’re hereby exiled, Tommy.”_

He’s alone, with only Dream as his company, cut off from his friends, from his home, from his family. Trapped, trapped, trapped.

A blackstone-and-obsidian lined room, filled with objects, with beings of importance, of attachment, being told that this, _this,_ is where he will stay, stuck forever. Trapped. Trapped, trapped. His only company will be Tubbo’s dead corpse, until Dream gets bored of him and lets him die, finally die.

He doesn’t want to do this again.

His grip on his shirt tightens when another explosion shakes the room, and he can feel his nails through the cloth, digging into his skin. Tears pour down his face, slipping into his mouth, the salt staining his tongue, lining his teeth. He hiccups through his gasping breaths, trying so desperately to _breathe, fucking breathe._

Another explosion shakes the room--not literally, of course, but Tommy shakes all the same--and he cries, cries for freedom (or lack thereof), cries because he’s trapped, trapped, trapped. 

“Sam! Sam, let me--let me out! I’m ready to get out!” He screams, screams because he couldn’t scream before, out in the plains, into the Nether lava lake. “Phil!” he can feel his throat tearing with how loud he is screaming, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he just wants to be free, he wants out.

He can’t breathe, the walls are too close, his skin is too tight, everything feels so wrong. He looks over his shoulder to where he knows Dream is standing, clad in an orange jumper, his scarred face illuminated by the light of the lava streaming over the entrance, the only entrance--the only escape.

Tommy’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. The bastard is smiling.

“We’re going to have so much fun.”

  
><><><><

  
Ever since Phil adopted Wilbur and Techno, he feels as if he developed a sixth sense of sorts. And it only heightened when Tommy came along.

It’s a feeling, is the best way he can describe it. Whenever one of his children are in danger, a sick feeling settles in his gut. It leaves him feeling nauseous and anxious. During the revolution, he frequently woke in a cold sweat and with a queasy stomach. His fingers would tremble, despite his usually steady hands. 

He’s rather used to the nauseous feeling--it really isn’t that bad, just slightly annoying, and since his children tend to be in danger rather often, he’s gotten used to letting it wash past him, easy come, easy go.

But this time was different. He was walking with Technoblade, taking Steve for a walk because “The bear just doesn’t get out as much as he should, Phil,” when a cold stab of _dread_ pierced his gut, halting him in his tracks. His steady hands shook with a powerful tremor, a familiar sickness washing over him, but his gut churned, twisting and writhing with a sudden anxiety he’s only felt once before, on one of the worst days of his life. The day Wilbur lost his last life.

Technoblade stops, looking over his shoulder at where Phil suddenly stopped, confusion and wariness spread along his features. “Phil?” he calls.

Phil blinks, and he’s back. His wings flare out from behind him, his hand clenching around the hilt of his sword. Technoblade’s hand immediately flies to his axe, his features sharpening into a frown.

Phil looks to the piglin, his eyes hard. “Tommy’s in trouble.”

  
><><><><

  
Tommy leans against the wall, the cold seeping into his bones. Dream sits across from him, watching him. He’s just staring, that’s all he’s been doing. While Tommy’s been screaming, kicking the wall, punching Dream, he’s just stood there, taking it, watching Tommy tire himself out, tear apart his vocal cords screaming for a warden that won’t let him out; for a father that won’t save him.

He still doesn’t know why he screamed for Phil. It’s something that just came out, he can’t explain it because he doesn’t know _why_. Why would Phil come, anyway? He’s probably too busy hanging out with his favorite son. And he’s far, far away. If Sam couldn’t hear him across the lava, how would Phil hear him all the way in the tundra, even if Tommy screamed as loud as he possibly could? It was stupid of him, a desperate move, a crack in his mask to the crying child beneath.

Wow, that’s really what it is, huh? That’s all he really is, if he thinks about it. A crying, broken child, hiding underneath a confident mask, painting his tears as obnoxious shouts. A _mask_. A mask like Dreams.

No. No, he’s not like Dream. Dream was a coward, hiding beneath a mask for no reason. Hiding because he’s afraid to show his face.

But that’s all Tommy is doing, hiding the real him, hiding the child who’s been traumatized, who’s been hurt, abused, manipulated. He’s a coward, just like Dream. 

He seems closer now. Or is Tommy just imagining it?

No, Dream is definitely closer. He was leaning against the wall before, but now he’s sitting in the center of the room, still staring, still sitting. 

Whatever. As long as he doesn’t get any closer.

Tommy turns his head, staring into the lava draped over the entrance/exit ~~/escape.~~ The swirling magma is hypnotizing, almost, and he is reminded of his times in exile. Those memories always gave him a headache, while also filling his chest with a sort of pain that hurt to think about, so he tried not to. He just lifted a hand to rub around his heart, the familiar urge to touch the lava filling him, to step into it because what else is he going to do? He can’t stay here, trapped in such a small space with _Dream_ , the very idea crushes his heart with such fear and anxiety that he physically feels sick, swallowing back the bile and the panic before he can dirty and stink up the whole room. That would only make this so much worse than it already is.

His thoughts are cut off by a shuffling sound, and he whips his head around to see Dream sitting directly in front of him, leaving only a foot of space between them. 

Every nerve on high alert, he shouts, “What the fuck, man, fuck off!” He scrambles back into the obsidian, feeling the cold essence of the stone stain his clothes, feels it through his shirt, but he doesn’t care because Dream is too close, too close, too close back up back up he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t _breathe_ \--

But he doesn’t move, he doesn’t back up, he doesn’t listen, he only stares, he only fucking stares, and Tommy can see his face. He can see Dream’s face, nicked with scars and peppered with freckles, and he can see his eyes, bright green and swirling with malice, with the same kind of danger that lava is to Tommy, and his chest _burns._

The room shakes again, but this time, it’s not with an explosion--there’s no loud _boom_ or anything. Tommy falls, his head hitting the obsidian with a loud _crack_ , and pain blooms along the side of his skull, but he doesn’t pass out, damn it, he just feels it, feels every bit of it, and he hates it. He wants to cry, but he’s not sure he has any tears left, if they haven’t been evaporated by the burning heat of the lava surrounding them.

He looks up and finds Dream towering over him. It feels like everything is happening in screenshots--one second he’s sitting up with Dream right in front of him, the next he’s laying down, and Dream is standing over him, reaching for him, holding his shoulders, picking him up, pulling him close, too close, _too close_ \--

“Tommy, are you okay?! You fell, you hit your head really hard,” he exclaims, his voice seeming genuinely worried, like he’s actually concerned for how Tommy feels.

His breath seems to leave him at that point, his lungs empty. He gasps, but nothing comes in. All the air around him feels like tar entering his system, clogging his airways and filling his lungs with a sticky, icky feeling. 

“Let--let go,” he manages to gasp, but Dream only holds him closer. Tommy raises his arms shakily, pushing against him with all his might--though it probably only feels like a pat--and gasps, desperately trying to _breathe_. “Let me--let me go,”

And he does. He pulls back as if Tommy just caught fire, leaving him to barely catch himself and lean against the wall, clutching his chest, trying to ignore how the walls seem to close in infinitely, neverending, never ceasing, trapping him.

When he finally manages to catch his breath, he looks up again, at his tormentor, to see him--you fucking guessed it--staring at him again, scooted back a few feet but still leaving Tommy squirming because it’s still too close.

He wants to shout, but his throat hurts and he doubts he can get enough breath to speak words, anyway, so he doesn’t try. Neither does Dream. He only stares.

And he stares.

And he stares.

And he stares.

  
><><><><

  
“Phil, what’s happened?”

Technoblade reaches for his trident as Phil digs around his enderchest, looking for a totem. God, he hopes he won’t need it, but it won’t be for him, it’s just in case. Just in case…

He doesn’t want to think about that. 

“I don’t know, Techno,” and it’s true, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that Tommy has to be in some life-threatening danger right now, and he needs Phil.

He needs someone to save him, and if that “someone” is Phil, then he will gladly step up to fill that role.

“You can’t just,” Techno starts, but cuts himself off with a scoff, double checking his armor as he fumbles for words. “Just say ‘Tommy’s in trouble’, and expect me to not have questions, Phil. How do you know? I mean, I believe you, but _how_?”

“I don’t know, mate,” he sighs, and hurries down the ladder to the front door, Techno close behind. “It’s like your voices, kind of. Except it’s more of a feeling. Call it a sixth sense, I guess. I just,” another sigh, this one heavier, more weary than the first. He turns to face Techno, his face grim, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “I just _know_ he needs help.”

Techno studies him, noticing the tightness in the corners of his mouth, how his brows are lowered and set heavily over his eyes, how his shoulders are tense, and he nods. They hurry through the Nether, the journey feeling distant. Phil’s too preoccupied with the thought that Tommy’s in danger, he needs help, where is he, _is he dying?_

When they teleport to the Dream SMP, Phil takes a moment to look over the SMP from the hill that the portal is set upon. He doesn’t really know where to go; the feeling--Phil’s sixth sense or something--doesn’t exactly lead him to where he needs to go.

Techno walks up from behind him. “Where to, Phil?” He asks, standing next to the hybrid.

He’s silent for a moment, listening for the sound of battle, but everything seems peaceful. The only sounds he hears are the sounds of nature and the soft murmur of people nearby, but that’s it, nothing dangerous, nothing foreboding.

Perhaps they should walk around. See if anyone has seen Tommy.

They start down the path, weapons put away (“We don’t need to start some unneeded drama right now,” Phil reasons), but they are kept close. They walk past many familiar buildings, a few unfamiliar, but that’s to be expected. They pass some thick red vines that reek of danger to Phil, but Techno assures him that it shouldn’t be a problem for now, so they skip over it. It’s none of Phil’s business, so as long as they keep him and his family out of it, he’s chill.

A tall building that neither Phil or Technoblade has ever seen begins to roll into view. Stone clefts stick out every few blocks, seeming to indicate a new floor, with spruce log accents, and oh, now that Phil is thinking about it, that might be Tommy’s hotel, he remembers hearing something about that on an invitation Tommy delivered to Technoblade.

They walk toward it, deciding to check it out and see if there’s anyone there who could have seen Tommy. But as they get near, a white billboard comes into view, and, upon closer inspection, it says, “Big Jack Manifold Hotel”. A frown pulls at Phil’s lips. Strange, and suspicious. It’s Tommy’s hotel, isn’t it?

They walk inside, and it’s rather neat inside, if not a little empty, though he wouldn’t be surprised if the hotel had only just opened recently. The first thing he sees is a front desk, and standing behind the counter is Jack Manifold, flipping through a book. He looks up at Phil and Techno and straightens, a smile splitting his face.

“Welcome, lads! First time at the Big Jack Manifold Hotel?”

“I thought this was Tommy’s hotel?” Techno asks before Phil can.

Jack waves his hand dismissively. His voice takes on a teasing lilt. “Ah, as it is, Tommy is unable to run the hotel right now, so he’s left me in charge,”

“I don’t believe he was handing you the rights to the hotel,” Phil says, his voice dangerously low. He gestures to the big white billboard right outside the front door. 

Jack’s smile falters, but only for a moment. He continues, “That’s not something Tommy can control at the moment,”

“Right,” And that’s all Phil needed to hear, and he reached for his sword. Technoblade’s hand hovers near his axe. Jack watches his movement and pulls out his own sword, his smile falling from his face, replaced with a cold, analyzing glare. “What did you do?”

For a moment, Jack just stares, then he blinks, as if surprised, or perhaps confused. “Me? I didn’t do anything.”

“Where’s Tommy?”

“Don’t you know?” Now he really seems confused, but it’s more curious than anything. Still, Phil keeps a firm hold on his sword.

“Know what? Come on, Jack, spill it,”

“Tommy’s trapped in the prison,” Phil’s heart drops. Techno falters for a moment, but quickly focuses when Jack continues, “There’s been a security breach while he was visiting Dream, and now he’s stuck in there until Sam can get him out.”

“Security breach?” Techno wonders aloud, his brows furrowing. “I thought the prison was supposed to be impenetrable.”

“Well, someone clearly took that as a challenge.”

Phil turns to Techno, “Let’s go,”

They turn to leave, but Jack quickly exclaims, “Wait, you’re not seriously planning on trying to get him out, are you?”

“Of course we are,” Technoblade grumbles, though there’s a hardness in his voice. Tommy and Techno didn’t leave on the best terms, after all. “We’re his family, it’s our job to get him out of his shit.”

Jack’s chuckles follow them out of the hotel, with a final goodbye, “Good luck with that, Sam isn’t letting anyone near,”

“We don’t need permission,” Phil says, and they hurry away. God, Tommy’s stuck in prison with _Dream_. Phil hasn’t been doing a great job at keeping up with his youngest (something that he deeply regrets, now) but he knows enough to know about how Dream stands in Tommy’s eyes, what the green bastard did to him. 

They need to get Tommy out.

When they reach the prison, they find Sam walking around the interior, sword and shield in hand, scanning the walls. When he sees them walking up, he tenses, holding up his shield.

Phil holds up his hands, unwilling to start a fight when they could simply talk it out. Sam’s been helping Tommy out recently, hasn’t he? He built the hotel for him.

“No one is to go near the prison,” Sam calls, his voice powerful and demanding. “Turn around and walk away.”

“Tommy’s trapped with Dream,” Phil says. “We need to get him out.”

Sam scoffs at him-- _scoffs!_ “Why do you suddenly care? You didn’t seem to care when you destroyed his home, did you? Or when he was stuck in exile with Dream? Why now?”

And, honestly… Phil doesn't know what to say. He’s equal parts dumbfounded and outraged. How dare this man tell him he can’t care for his own son, trapped in a prison with his tormentor. What gives this man the right to think he can talk to him like that about his own son?

(But another part of him, the bleeding heart in his chest that can overpower the bloodthirst in his head cries out that he deserves this, and so much more, because Sam’s right. He neglected his own son, left him to the wolves, to Dream, dropped him off for his friends or even strangers to piece back together.)

Sam continues when Phil doesn’t respond, “I’m working on getting him out right now, but I can't do that with people around, so I’m going to need you to leave,”

“He’s _my_ brother,” Technoblade argues. “And _his_ son. If anyone should be allowed in, it’s his family.”

“Yeah, and you’ve done a damn good job at that role.”

“And you’ve done a good job on getting him out,” Phil counters.

Sam’s quiet at that. Phil can feel the daggers that the creeper hybrid is glaring at him through the gas mask, but he doesn’t care. The anger and guilt he felt just moments before is overpowered by the dreadful feeling pulling at his gut, and whenever he looks to the prison, he can practically _feel_ Tommy fading away inside those walls. His heart seizes at the thought.

A world-weary sigh leaves Sam then, deflating his tense shoulders. “Look,” he murmurs. His voice is quieter now, lowered as if he were going to tell a secret. “I’m trying to get him out. Really, I am. But I also need to find the security breach, and patch that up before either Dream escapes, or someone else sneaks in. And I really, really can’t do that with people around, and so I really need you to respect that and leave.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not leaving without Tommy.”

“I can’t risk someone sneaking in with you and freeing Dream!”

“And I can’t risk losing another son!”

Sam’s grip on his sword tightens, his arms tensing as if in preparation to fight them back. Phil and Techno tense and shift in preparation to fight past Sam, if need be. Phil had never had to fight the man, but he can tell, just by looking, that Sam would be a notable fighter, someone difficult to get past. 

But Sam doesn't move, simply stares at them. Each party watches the other, waiting for someone to make the first move, before Sam slowly lowers his weapon. His gaze is hard, but he studies them in a different light. He glares at Phil and Techno before stepping aside, leaving the entrance to the prison unguarded.

“Alright. I’ll go in with you to get Tommy out, and check on all of the breaches from the inside.”

“Why didn’t you go in to get Tommy out before, if you’re able to?” Phil asks, his eyes narrowing.

Sam levels Phil’s glare with his own. “Because it was never safe enough to.”

“How so?”

“It’d be safer for me to find the breach and make sure it doesn’t interfere with any security precautions before I try to get Tommy out, especially since he’s, by definition, in one of the safest places in the SMP.”

“That’s absolute bullshit!” Phil exclaims. His wings flare out behind him. “You know that he’s in the most danger whenever he’s around that green fuck,”

“I didn’t have much of a choice at the time,” Sam admits. “Let’s just get him out now so he doesn’t have to spend any more time in there.”

Phil’s lips thin to a firm line, but he and Techno follow Sam inside. His legs itch to run forward, find Tommy on his own and free the boy so he doesn’t have to be anywhere near Dream for another second, but that’s a stupid idea on several different levels, so he twitches his wings behind him and follows behind Sam.

_I’m coming, Tommy._

  
><><><><

  
Tommy doesn’t know how long he’s been in here--it feels like it’s been weeks, but he’s not sure if it’s even been a day. The clock is gone, so he has no way of really knowing.

His only company is Dream, which sucks, because Dream’s an entitled prick, though he does give Tommy potatoes. He won’t give Tommy a book and quill, though, but Tommy did burn the other two he gave him, so he supposes that’s fair.

It’s almost funny how quickly Tommy went back to Dream, after trying to avoid him for so long. He still doesn’t like being close to Dream, doesn’t like how sick and sticky he makes him feel, like he can’t breathe, can’t move. But from a distance, Dream is a comfort, of sorts. He kind of has to be, because he’s the only one here, but you know. Specifics.

Tommy finds himself staring into the lava again. It’s almost funny how quickly he picked up this habit, too. He thought he was doing better, but he supposes all it took was a few hours trapped in obsidian to undo all of that work. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to fix himself after this, though.

Well, will he even need to?

_I’m not getting out of this one, am I?_

That’s fine. Well, it’s _not_ fine, but that’s okay. Except, it’s not. He’s not getting out of this, and that’s not good, but it’s okay, right? He got out of it before, but then he got cocky and got himself stuck again, and no one wants to deal with him again, not like this, not now, not anymore. At least, that’s what Dream said.

“You’re stuck again, Tommy, like a stupid little kid.”

“We’re together again, Tommy, just like old times.”

“We’ll have fun!”

“They already helped you, Tommy, are you so selfish to ask for help again?”

“Don’t worry, Tommy, I’ll always be here.”

(Somehow, that scared him the most, because it’s true. Even if he were to kill Dream, steal his last life like the man threatened to do to him, Dream would always be with him, as that evil little voice in his mind, as the sticky tar that coated his lungs. He’d truly never be free, and that terrified him.)

Whenever Tommy stared at the lava for too long, Dream would kick his leg. A bruise was starting to form, but that’s okay, because the ache would help keep him grounded. When it started to fade, Dream would pinch him, and that helped.

He shouldn’t listen to Dream. He knows that he’s lying. Dream’s lying, right? But then, why do all his lies feel so real? He’s telling the truth--he got stuck before, he got exiled, and no one wanted to help him, they all left him. 

_But they did help me, they saved me and Tubbo from Dream, why would they help if they didn’t want me around?_ So they freed him, yes, but only that time. That time, they helped, but not this time. He got stuck again, and they don’t want to come back and get him unstuck, because if he wandered back into the tar on purpose, then that’s where he should stay, right? He’s stupid for coming back.

No one is going to help him, and the lava blurs in front of him, his vision swimming in tears. They fall down his cheeks before he can blink them away, so he reaches up and scrubs at his face instead. His breath comes in raspy gasps and hiccups, and he curls into himself, pulling his legs up to his chest and squeezing his arms between them.

He hears Dream shuffle across the room to him, and his heart stutters. His limbs freeze in silent terror, but his gasps don’t stop, and his tears keep falling, and he just sounds so ugly but he can’t stop.

Dream kneels in front of him, and his hold on his wrists are gentle, so gentle that Tommy practically melts at the touch, desperate for a kind hand, a hug, something, anything, because he feels so fucking empty right now.

And just as he starts to lean into Dream’s hold, it tightens, and a gasp of pain rings out between his heavy breaths.

“Shut up, Tommy,” Dream hisses, pulling at his wrists until his hands are away from his face, no longer able to muffle his cries. “Shut up. Why are you crying, there’s no reason to cry.”

He doesn’t receive an answer, which Tommy knows he wants, but he’s trying. He swallows through his dry throat and tries so hard to stop the tears, biting his lip until he thinks he bit through it, but the tears keep falling and he still can’t breathe.

Dream lets go of his wrists and wraps his arms around Tommy’s shoulders, and the boy stiffens in his hold, keeping his arms up so that there’s some separation between his face and Dream’s shoulder.

Dream runs a hand through his hair, pulling the loose strands out of Tommy’s short ponytail. “Be quiet, Tommy. That’s enough. You’re here with me, and that’s all that matters. That’s all you need. Be quiet.”

_Be quiet, Tommy. Now._ He swallows several times before he can finally take a breath, but it’s small and forced, and it doesn’t really count because it gets stuck in his throat and Tommy has to cough it back out. But Dream doesn’t seem to mind, petting Tommy’s hair softly, his other hand rubbing circles into his back.

It’s almost… nice, if he ignores the gross, sticky feeling coating the back of his teeth and his throat, and the butterflies made out of acid in his stomach. It’s nice to have some form of physical comfort, even if it’s from Dream. 

_How quickly the mighty have fallen._

Dream tenses suddenly, his hold slackening for a moment, and Tommy sits back for a moment, just a quick moment, and he hears something.

He hears the lava, but it isn’t the usual bubbling he’s so used to hearing. It sounds like it’s being sucked up, like when he came to visit Dream before the bridge began moving.

He glances to the lava-covered entrance, hope _(useless, overexcited hope)_ igniting in his chest, and his eyes widen when he sees the lava is falling, and in its place is hot air, not more lava, and he can see the other side of the chasm, can see two figures standing there, waiting for the lava to fall. He recognizes them, he knows them, and his heart seizes when he sees their faces.

He thought they didn’t care about him anymore.

He pushes against Dream, wanting to break free from his now restricting hold, his gut clenching at the thought of them seeing him cling to Dream. But Dream only tightens his hold on Tommy, smushing his face against his shoulder and pressing his body against the wall, like he was trying to hide him in the wall.

It’s all too tight, too close, he feels trapped, let him out, let him out _let him out._

He pushes harder, digging his elbows into Dream’s side, feebly kicking out his legs, but it does nothing. He hears a shout, and the sound of pistons jumping to life, and after a few moments of Tommy pushing against Dream, his heart racing and jumping to his throat, the man is suddenly ripped away from him, eliciting a startled cry from Tommy, and an enraged one from Dream.

Technoblade is standing over Dream, the enchanted axe pressed over his heart. Phil rushes forward, reaching for Tommy. His stomach flips, and he flinches at the abrupt movement. Phil hesitates, and moves slower, toward him, holding a hand out to Tommy.

Tommy stares at the offending hand, a tense moment passing between the two of them, before he takes it, and is pulled up to his feet and straight into a bone crushing hug. And it’s terrifying, and stuffy, and it’s too close, and Tommy immediately tenses, pushing out of the hug just as suddenly as he was pulled in.

Phil leans back, yanking his hands away from Tommy as if the boy had just burnt him, his face a mask of worry. “Tommy, I’m so sorry you were stuck in here,” he apologizes. His eyes quickly scan Tommy’s form, seemingly checking for any injuries. “Are you okay?”

“You actually came?” he rasps out, and he’s startled by the sound of his voice. Surely it’s only been a couple days, at most (though, he was crying and screaming for the majority of it). He sounds terrible.

Phil’s expression is absolutely heartbroken at Tommy’s statement, and Techno’s shoulders tense, the axe digging into Dream’s skin just enough to break skin. Dream hisses in pain. “Of course we did, Tommy. Why wouldn’t we?”

“I called for you and--and you didn’t come, and I--” Tommy hiccups, and he thought he didn’t have any tears left, but they are budding at his eyes again, so it seems he was wrong. “I thought you wouldn’t--didn’t, I--”

“Sh, sh,” Phil shushes, his hands hovering around Tommy, as if afraid to touch. He looks down at Tommy with such caring eyes, he forgets that this is the man who looked down at him in the crater of L’Manburg and laughed.

_Let me have this, please. Just for today, let me believe we’re a family._

“Tommy, can I touch you?” Phil asks, and Tommy hesitates, simultaneously wanting to curl into himself and hide from any and all physical contact, while also wanting to throw himself forward and bury his face in his father’s chest and just pretend that he’s at home.

And this is his dad. He can trust Phil, he can. ~~(He ignores memories of an obsidian grid and raining TnT, of withers and fireworks and death, death, death).~~

He leans forward into Phil’s hovering hands, giving him silent permission to run his fingers through his hair, wrap a light arm around his shoulders, and press him into a comforting hug. It’s so much more different than Dream’s hugs, which are tight and suffocating. This is soft and light, and comfortable. Peaceful.

Phil shifts a little, lifting Tommy into a slightly standing position, making sure that Tommy’s legs are stable enough to support him. They tremble a little, but Tommy can hold himself up relatively fine. Phil guides him to the bridge, keeping an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Techno presses the axe slightly deeper into Dream’s chest, and Dream groans from the added pressure. Technoblade growls, “Stay where you are, scum, or I will run through you without hesitation.”

Then he turns and follows Phil and Tommy to the bridge, and Sam flips the lever to bring them back. When the bridge lands at its destination, he hears the lava drip back down, and turns away from where he knows Dream is watching. He can feel the man’s stare on the back of his head, drilling holes into his skull.

The walk out of the prison is a blur to Tommy, as Phil and Techno rushed his shaking form out as quickly as possible, but the relief that washed over him when he felt the sun, when he breathed fresh, open air for the first time in what felt like months, could only be rivaled by when he sat on the bench for the first time after exile. 

His shoulders untense, and he breathes, finally breathes. His feet touch grass and his knees buckle, and he’s falling, falling to the ground, but he doesn’t mind when he feels the soft blades of grass slip between his fingers, warmed by the sun--it’s a soft kind of warmth, like a gentle kiss. 

Phil gasps, scrambling to catch Tommy’s dead weight. “Tommy, hang on--are you okay?!”

Tommy sniffles, no longer able to form tears to cry, so he just whimpers and wails and _breathes_. He can feel the space around his shoulders and back and chest, open and free. He’s finally free. _Free._

Phil lays a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, his hand light. “Oh, Tommy,” he sighs, kneeling next to Tommy in the grass. “I’m so, so sorry, Tommy. If I’d known earlier, I would have come in a heartbeat.”

Tommy turns to Phil and buries his face in the older man’s shoulder, breathing in his woodsy scent. Phil wraps his arms around Tommy’s shaking shoulders, holding him close, hesitant at first, but when Tommy doesn’t move away--rather, he shuffles closer, curling into Phil’s chest--he tightens his hold, pressing him closer.

“Please don’t leave,” Tommy whimpers. And Phil’s heart seizes at how small the boy sounds.

“I won’t, Tommy,” As he says this, Phil looks up to where Techno is standing off to the side, watching them both with warring sadness and righteous anger in his eyes. A silent agreement passes between the two warriors, and anger flares in Phil’s chest--anger at Dream, for breaking his son like this, in exile and even in prison, and anger at himself, for not being there to put his broken pieces together before they shattered. “We’re not going anywhere.”

And he was going to keep that promise. This time, he would finally stay.

**Author's Note:**

> I kept forgetting how I wanted the story to end, so sorry if the end is a little messy, but what can I say, I tried ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Have a wonderful day, buhbye!


End file.
